Corned Beef and Rats
by Titania Le Fey
Summary: This was written as an exercise in setting description.


Snake slid to a halt and looked back over his shoulder. The long dark alley stretched back to the brightly lit street beyond but there was no movement. Snake continued walking but his gaze kept going back to the light at the end. Water seeped into his boots and scowling he looked down at the puddle that filled a good portion of the alley. Grumbling he stepped to the side and found a dry palette to sit on amongst the debris strewn in the alley.

Plissken set his prize aside and pulled of the wet boot and sock hoping maybe they would dry. It was a false hope in the damp May air but he did it anyway. He leaned against the brick wall and gazed up at the zigzag of steel stairs above him. They went to a dizzying height, 10 or 11 stories if he had to estimate. Once more his eye settled on the alley entrance. Cars drove by and he could see pedestrians but none entered the dark. They were afraid of it. They should be with the Crazies but this alley didn't smell of them. In fact it had relatively little smell aside from dirty water, much like an overly damp basement.

Satisfied that his palette was, for the moment, a safe haven Plissken opened the paper bag he'd confiscated. He pulled the contents out and crushed the bag flat as he watched rats scurry toward him. The smell of food always attracted them. When the rats were starving, he imagined things were about as bad as they could get.

Snake ignored the rats. Pulling back the deli paper caused his stomach to growl. He took a huge bite and chewed slowly. It had been years since he had a corned beef sandwich and not rats or police were going to stop him from enjoying it. Snake now had time to survey the alley. The piles of debris had his attention. He was always on the lookout for anything useful. To him it looked like automotive castings. Fenders and twisted metal.

More than anything that had his attention since he was without wheels. Taking another bite he set the sandwich in his lap and began pulling on his sock and boot. Twice he had to shoo the huge brown rats away. Their soppy bodies left a wet trail of black water across the light wood of the palette. Snake was really starting to hate the rats. He laughed at them knowing they were unaware of how lucky they were he had something else to eat or they would be on the menu.

Sandwich in hand he stood. Avoiding the puddle he'd already stepped in was a challenge but he managed to find a way around by walking on a bumper tossed through the shallows. Plissken took another bite still looking among the junk for anything of value. Most of it was hopelessly rusted from a winter outdoors. That explained the scum left by the rats. Every time Snake dared to touch anything in the pile hundreds of them fled into the darker areas.

Stepping back he continued eating and worked over the apex of the stack. It was a good story and a half or two tall. Twisted strips of metal twirled from the top giving it the look of some ancient, dead, metallic tree. His eye came down the stack toward the ground. Tires, engine parts, old batteries and unidentifiable hunks of rust stood haphazardly in the stack like a huge game of pick-up-sticks.

Plissken took the last bite of his sandwich and tossed the wrapper aside. It barely hit the ground before rats swarmed it for scraps. Snake was still interested in the stack. He produced the bag of chips from his pocket and began eating them blindly. The bag wasn't important neither was the food in general but he needed it. His focus was intent on a wheel sticking out a third of the way up. It was a nice looking bike wheel. Glancing down the alley toward the street he tossed the empty bag aside and began to climb. The wheel was attached to a something, a whole something.

Snake tossed a sheet of metal aside and the whole mound shifted precariously. His eye was still on the prize that was even more visible now. It was a foreign bike, probably a Yamaha but it was wheels if it worked or he could fix it from all this junk. The last part of his lunch came from his other jacket pocket. Cracking the beer he surveyed the situation. It went down smooth but was little distraction from all the feet splashing in the water or the high pitched squeal of fighting rats. He really despised that sound.

An exhaust pipe lay on the ground and Plissken picked it up. Throwing it among the mass of rodents silenced them. The silence was better and he thought more clearly as he took another swallow from the can. The jigsaw puzzle of the stack had worked through in his mind. Pulling on a long section of fender the bike came sliding to the ground. Snake tossed the empty can into the pile of metal and leaned the bike up. Black sludge was caked to the handle bar and one side. It wasn't until then that Plissken noticed the black-brown film that covered the ground. Snake dropped the bike and backed away looking for any way to get out of the ooze. Snake ran through the puddle he'd been avoiding and made for the lighted streets. Maybe the ones who stayed out of the dark places were the smart ones after all? 


End file.
